The Third Party
by blue-bubble97
Summary: A FF based off the 1523 incident of the Kalamar union featuring all the nordics C: Inspired by a short comic strip on zerochan. Enjoy! Hints of Finland x Sweden & Norway x Iceland. Reviews appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

_Then_

I still remember the days when we all got along so well. As the youngest country of the group, I was constantly watched over by Norway. Finland would be like the mother hen, rushing around and doing chores. Denmark and Sweden were our big brothers, our protectors. All those years of bliss and peace were carved straight into my soft, impressionistic heart, making them unforgettable.

During the summer, we'd nap on the green meadows of grass and run through tall fields of corn. Denmark would chase me around large boulders, earning a dirty glare from Norway if I fell down. When I was tired, there was always lemonade waiting back at the house.

When the weather grew colder, Norway would often be out grocery shopping for Finland would often be far too preoccupied with Denmark's growing need to attack the decreasing food population in the refrigerator. Sweden would be keeping the fire going with dry wood we had saved from autumn. Everybody was so busy, but I didn't mind.

I watched Finland gently scold Denmark as the latter cheekily slapped away the frustrated nation's hands. Sweden would often be going in and out of the house fetching wood. Norway would return, sending in a gust of icy wind as he kicked the door open, his arms full with large brown bags.

At this point, Denmark would be squatting by the fire, depressed that he would have to wait for another hour for his dinner. Norway's cheeks and nose were a shining red as he sat the groceries on the table top. I reached up for a hug, and the older nation would gently kiss my forehead, tousling my silvery hair. He would pick me up and carry me over to the fire, giving Denmark a rather brutal kick as he placed me on the warm rug.

Handing me a mug of warm apple cider with cinnamon sticks, Norway sat himself beside me as Denmark crawled pitifully back to the fire's side. Lifting me up onto his lap, Norway's hands linked around my stomach as I sipped my winters-day drink. Sweden would slip on the other side of Norway without making a sound, his glasses reflecting the light of the dancing fire. Finland followed carrying a large blanket.

The five of us huddled together underneath the blanket by the fire, my cheek pressed against Norway's chest. Finland would fall asleep, his head resting on Sweden's shoulder, and Denmark would be lost in a daydream.

I was protected, I was loved. There was nothing more I could ask for.

_Now_

They don't stop. They won't stop. The sounds of shouting and cussing won't stop.

Finland has lost a visible amount of weight, and our dinners were simpler: salad with mashed potatoes on hot days, and chicken broth with lettuce on cold ones. I missed the meat pies that we used to have for tea; but now, Finland was far too tired and preoccupied with the fact that Denmark and Sweden were giving each other verbal abuse and occasional beatings.

I turned to my old source of comfort – Norway. Although our brothers always fought, Norway would always be there to comfort me, trying to stay out of the fights for my sake.

Before I slept, I would always hear loud arguments and a series of colourful language. Putting my hands over ears or smothering my head with a pillow didn't help. Tonight was no different.

Curling up into a fetal position, I hugged my knees and wept softly into them. With salty tears stinging my eyes and trailing down the curve of my cheeks, I bit my lip to stop myself from crying out loud. It wouldn't stop. It couldn't stop.

The door of my room creaked open. A man with fair hair entered the room. Even with what little light there was, I could see the unmistakable iciness and pain in his blue eyes.

I rubbed away my tears, unwilling to let him see me cry. I could tell that he had been put in a difficult spot. His mask of ice was drawn up to hide the pain that now became so visibly raw.

"Ice?" he whispered, sliding into bed beside me. He fitted his knees behind mine, pressing his chest against my back, forming a perfect S shape with our bodies.

Resting the tip of his chin against my mop of silver hair, he linked his arms around my stomach, the way he had done when we were still young. "Do you want apple cider?" he asked softly. I said no.

Norway sighed, folding me even closer to him. I could feel his heartbeat against my back, a reassuring steady thump. "Do you ever wish that we were young again?" he whispered, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ears. Nodding my head, I took hold of his hands with my own, noting the slight difference in the length of our fingertips. I flipped Norway's hand to allow his palm to face me. The skin on the underside of each fingertip and near the base of his thumb was rough; fine, white cracks raced down the sides of his fingers and down to the heart of his palm. I placed my palm over his and examined it – soft, ivory coloured skin which had never seen the sun or heat stared back at me – a reminder that I had always been under protection.

Letting go of my brother's hands, I turned to face him and buried my face into his chest, attempting to fit so tightly to into his larger figure that I wouldn't feel so helpless and small. "Really, how old are you now," I heard Norway murmur as his arms closed around my back, "Because you still act the same as you did when we were children… you haven't changed at all, Ice –"A loud string of profanities cut off Norway in mid-sentence as I instinctively shivered. Sensing this, my big brother pulled me into an even closer embrace.

There was a long pause and silence outside. Somewhere beyond my room, a door was angrily slammed shut. The air grew heavy and thick, choking me, but my brother's voice pulled me back.

"…maybe," he continued, "It's not such a bad thing that some things remain the same."


	2. Chapter 2

_Then_

The days passed by slowly back then – there was nothing much to do. If we weren't jumping across small brooks by the forests in the summer, we were ploughing our way through a meter of snow and losing our boots amidst the white sea during the winter. We lay on our backs in the late afternoons when the sun wasn't quite so high up in the sky, admiring the fluffy white balls of cotton wool that floated in the sky. The days were so halcyon that almost every passing day was exactly the same as the last.

One day, Denmark came back with a sword. It was heavy and large, and despite being the strongest of the five of us he couldn't wield it properly. Norway had shifted himself in front of me as I watched my older brother wave around the large blade in wonder. Sweden gave the Denmark a disapproving glare and retrieved the sword from the Dane. Without considering how dangerous the sword would be, I ran up to Sweden and begged to see it. When my brother set it down in front of me, I couldn't help but admire it; the handle was made of gold which had grown dark and dirty, but the blade was a shining silver, polished so clean that I could see my own reflection in it. In amazement, I lightly ran my palm over the blade, expecting it to be smooth and slippery.

The next thing I knew, there was a bright streak of red staining the section where the blade and my flesh had met. I glanced stupidly at my own palm. There was a clean cut running from the tip of my index finger to the base of my palm, the cut flesh was white with large pearls of red welling up around the corners. The middle of the cut was stained a deeper crimson, the blood spreading out like a blooming poppy flower. I heard a scream, presumably Finland, and another deeper voice barking orders. Somebody – Norway? – scooped me up, carrying me to the couch to tend to my wound.

As my palm was swabbed with alcohol, Denmark scolded me for being so foolish. He had his brows furrowed, and creases formed between them. I had never seen him so angry.

"_What were you thinking, touching that sharp blade? Let alone giving it a rub with your bare hand? Are you _stupid_, Ice? Tell me. You lil' thing hasn't got any brains yet, eh, seeing as how utterly disgusting it is to see you acting like a dolt!" _he leered at me.

His contempt stung, and I didn't reply, turning pink and stared down at my lap. For the rest of the day, I couldn't meet Denmark's eye. Finland fussed more than usual, insisting on feeding me my soup and changing my bandages on an hourly basis. Sweden didn't seem to care much, but sat down to watch me while I struggled to strike a match from a matchbox with only one hand before getting up to help me. When I passed Norway in the corridor, he had gently ruffled my hair and gave me a pat on the back.

I couldn't sleep that night. Instead, I walked into the field of grass behind the house and sat down, as if the breath-taking starry sky could make the pain and embarrassment I felt go away. Hearing a small _fft _sound, I looked down to see a few small silver coins sliding down the surface of my shirt.

"Hey Ice."

Denmark gave me one of his usual friendly grins, his hands cupping a small heap of silver coins.

"…Den?"

My older brother was acting as if nothing had happened.

"C'mon," he urged, jerking his head in the direction of the nearby river, "let's go to the river." Looking confused, I stood up clumsily.

"What're you _waiting _for?" he said impatiently, already breaking into a brisk walk. "We haven't got all night!"

Holding on to the three coins tossed at me, I timidly followed the looming shadow my brother.

"Aren't you angry at me?" I managed in a small voice.

Denmark didn't turn back to look at me, but he slowed his pace a little.

"Nah."

There was something about the tone of his voice that made me feel at ease. It became noticeably gruff, but all its sharp edges and corners had been rubbed off. The energetic voice softened as the Dane turned round to look at me.

"Not anymore."

This was my older brother. He just had to act tough all the time. I couldn't help but smile.

"What're you laughing at, dwarf," he demanded, but I could tell that he was teasing. He had a playful smile on his face and his blue eyes were glowing.

It seemed like a fairy tale – like Hansel and Gretel leaving a trail of white stones – as we made our way to the river underneath the Prussian blue sky.

_Now_

The next morning, the house was silent. When I woke up, there was but an absentmindedly buttered French loaf sitting on my bedside table. There wasn't anybody at home. Not anymore.

The cold outside was bitter and hard, but I ate my breakfast outside on the patio, wondering how on earth the sun could continue shining so diligently despite being blocked by a heap of large grey clouds. How could the rest of this universe go about their daily lives as if today was like no other ordinary day? The bread was tasted like cardboard in my mouth, and I threw it out to the birds. As I watched the bread sink beneath a few centimeters of newly fallen snow, I couldn't help but wonder where the rest of my family was.

Lying down on the cold stones, I flung my arm over my eyes so that I didn't have to see what was so painfully obvious in front of me. 

Norway didn't return that night, but the other three did. I eased my door open a little to see what was going on.

"Hey, Sweden."

Denmark's voice. There was something not quite right about it. When Denmark was angry he'd shout, loud and fierce. This voice was quiet and dangerous, dripping with poison. Like a microscopic virus, waiting to escalate into something huge and wreck havoc.

Silence.

"I heard you're leaving the union," Denmark's voice continued. The floor boards creaked as he took a step forward. "I heard right, didn't I?"

"Yes."

The acknowledgement of the statement came, cold and hard. Sweden's voice was similar to Denmark's, but deeper and grander.

Next came a flurry of steps as somebody ran into the room. A third party.

"Sweden!"

This voice belonged to Finland. Finland's voice was a lot higher than ours – often warm and soft – full of curves and smooth edges. But now, it was just shrill and slightly grating. I clenched the fabric of my maroon pants, wondering where the old Finland had gone.

"Sweden! Is this true?" my brother half-shouted at the bespectacled man.

"Fin, stay out of this."

"What's your business is mine!"

In a flash, Sweden had pinned his smaller brother to the wall by his shoulders. "I tell you stay out of this, you do as I say," he said fiercely.

Sweden, my quiet, respectable, and surprisingly docile older brother now frightened me. His blue eyes were like glaciers, menacing and daunting.

"Right."

Denmark took another step forward, his fists balled up.

"Right. Cut the crap already. You're far too weak, you'll die out there! YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING." Denmark swung out at the taller nation, catching him on the side of his face and throwing him off balance.

Finland, being released from Sweden's iron grasp, dug his fingernails into his palms as if the pain would help him forget what had happened. Sweden's hand shot up to where he had been hit, his eyes flashing indigently. From where I was crouched, Sweden looked like he was bowing to his older brother. My dignified, prideful brother had lowered his head. Biting my lip, I willed myself not to cry.

"…Denmark…"

Sweden stood up, adjusting his glasses. "…I don't like being treated weak."

The Dane snorted. "Really? You think I exaggerate things?"

My brother's eyes flashed brighter than ever. Grabbing Denmark by the throat, Sweden lifted him off the ground with ease. With his strong hands wrapped firmly around his brother's windpipe, the latter begun to choke.

"Stop being so proud," the Swedish grated out, "it makes me sick."

Denmark couldn't respond, but a spark ignited in his eyes.

"Sweden!" Finland panicked, pulling on one of Sweden's hands. "Stop it! Don't kill him!"

I saw Sweden turn towards his younger brother, his face softening. Giving one last hard stare at Denmark, the Swedish released him from his clutches as the Dane crumpled onto the ground, struggling to breathe.

Before I could say anything, Sweden had thrown open and had marched out of the door into the howling blizzard. Finland seemed momentarily torn at the decision of attending to Denmark or following Sweden; finally choosing the latter for reasons he didn't quite understand, my brother grabbed a coat and called for Sweden to wait up.

Easing the door shut using my foot, I pushed myself as far back into the corner of the wall as I could; stuffing three fingers into my mouth so that I wouldn't cry out loud as hot tears ran down my cheeks. Silently rocking back and forth, I realized that even after all these years, Norway was always the one I always relied on to make things right for me. I had complete faith that he had the power to do so.

Except for now.


	3. Chapter 3

_Then_

Denmark was the type of guy who always needed things hisway – even when were little. Once, we were discussing on what sort a ruler would the _best _ruler. We wrote down qualities on paper and took turns reading out our opinions. When it was Denmark's turn, my brother had proudly stood up with a million dollar smile. He had only one word scribbled across the large paper: SELFISHNESS.

Finland had asked him to explain his choice, and Denmark said: "everybody needs to follow the leader. If he gives away bits and pieces of his land to small lords, he wouldn't have complete control over everything. The kingdom wouldn't be so united otherwise. That's why he's got to keep everything and not give anything away. He's gotta be stingy."

Back then, I simply dismissed the fact as bogus and Norway had sarcastically added "you're going to be a shit leader, Den" while the Finnish hushed him for his language.

When we ended the discussion for tea, I saw Sweden give Denmark a pat on the back and a thumbs-up to show his support. For as long as I could remember, Sweden and Denmark were always on the same side.

"Jesus, you need longer legs Ice!" Denmark laughed heartily when he saw my face, red with effort and severe lack of stamina. "Gotta learn to do everything quicker from now on. Talk quick, run quick, think quick…" As he said this, the Dane bent down and gently flicked me on the forehead.

"I'm not as tall or as strong as you are, big brother…" I grumbled, pulling my scarf over my nose to block out the cold.

"Yeah yeah, all in a good time eh?" Denmark held out a handful of silver coins.

"…?"

"I brought ya here to make a wish. Y'know how it works… think of something real hard, wish for it real hard, and toss the coin into the river," the Dane explained.

The water of the river hadn't quite frozen over yet. The water level, however, had dropped considerably, revealing the smooth, shiny pebbles sitting at the bottom. As I leant forward with Denmark, I could see our reflections as clear as day, staring back at us. The moon formed a perfect white circle, slightly distorted by the ripples made by the flow of the water. Tiny, silver fish darted around the rocks like seams of loose ribbon.

I told my brother that this was one of those one time things, where you only had one wish. Once the first coin had sunk to the bottom of the river, you couldn't be granted any more wishes.

Denmark frowned and stared down at the bag of coins.

"Well this sucks. Alright then, make one wish. Don't waste it!"

As I watched my brother shut his eyes and furrow his brow, I wondered if I would ever be as tall as he was. Den's coin plummeted to the bottom of the lake when he had finished wishing.

I asked him what he had wished for.

"Can't tell you, Ice. Won't come true if I spill it. Now hurry and do your wish!"

"I'm _doing _it; don't hurry me."

When were done, the two of us lay on the riverbank, gazing up at the sky. It was stained a deep hue of grey. Denmark insisted it was black.

"It's the same as deep grey," he argued, standing up. "See, Ice, all things that sound different may actually be the same. Kinda like how Norge calls me a dougebag and how Finland calls me Den. They both refer to me anyways. Just different sayings. Although," my brother's eyebrows twitched and his lips pulled downward slightly, "I don't really like Norge calling me that."

"What's a dougebag?"

"Dammit Ice! Ask Norge!"

Denmark scooped up a generous amount of coins in his palms, the silver metal clinking as they came into contact.

"Ice," my brother addressed me, suddenly serious, "I'll tell you this – the future ain't gonna be easy. When we grow up, we'll fight more. A lot more. But I don't want you to worry 'cause at the end of the day, it's always gonna be ok."

"You mean we'll hide each other's cereal boxes more? Or eat each other's share of corn chips?"

"Depends."

Denmark released the coins above my small body. "To the uncertain future," he whispered.

I closed my eyes, letting the coins fall down onto me like stars coming loose from the heavens.

_Now_

I waited, and waited, and waited. Nobody came. Sweden had left, Finland following. Denmark had disappeared. Norway wasn't coming back for me. Refusing to cry and further, I put on a coat and followed Sweden's footsteps out into the snow.

My boot was hardly the size of Finland's boot prints. Letting my foot sink into the soft snow next to Sweden's foot print, I was reminded of how much smaller I was. What could I do? What would I do even if I followed my brothers? What _was _I trying to do?

"Are…you sure this is ok?"

Hearing Finland's worried, gentle voice, I instinctively hid behind a tree. I knew that if my brothers saw me, they'd send me back. I didn't want to go back. I could see that I was going to be left behind.

A soft grunt from Sweden was taken as a reply as my brothers walked in silence. "You do know that you're going to be leaving your brothers behind? Surely you do care about Denmark deep down inside…?" Finland added cautiously.

"If you don't want to follow, don't." Sweden interjected sharply.

Finland's amethyst eyes widened, hurt. "You could… tell Iceland and Norway that I'll always be their older brother," Sweden continued more softly, "and I'll miss them." At the last sentence, I saw a flash of regret and pain through his eyes as I felt my heart strings snap.

"You'll be all alone…"

"...I don't care anymore."

"Why… do you do this to yourself, Sweden?" Finland had begun to cry, soft hiccups emerging from within his coffee coloured woolen over shirt. Watching Finland set me off, and I furiously blinked, knowing my own similarly coloured eyes had begun to water.

Sweden had never really been the touchy type of person. While Denmark had enjoyed giving all his brothers hugs, pokes, ruffles on the head, friendly slaps on the back or cheek kisses; my bespectacled older brother showed disdain and embarrassment to being hugged or touched. I assumed that it was because he was nearly a head taller than Denmark, our second tallest brother.

Slowly wrapping his arms around Finland's small shoulders, Sweden embraced Finland, his eyes slightly damp.

"I'm sorry Fin."

"Then don't –"

From where I was standing, I could see most of Sweden's back and a little of Finland's face. His large, violet eyes were like the shiny foil of the Cadbury chocolates we ate during Christmas. He was looking up at Sweden, but the whites of his eyes were too large. Far too large.

"Fin…land?"

The said person collapsed onto the ground, the snow beneath him stained pink. "What…" Sweden stared down at his own gloved hands, stained crimson.

I wanted to scream, but my throat had twisted itself into a knot. I could smell blood. Covering my mouth, I watched in fear and horror as a shadow approached Sweden's back. I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting the worst.

The next thing I heard was the sound of two pieces of metal grating each other. Opening my eyes, I saw that Sweden had drawn his sword. The same sword I had cut myself on so many years ago.

On the other end was another man with wild, blonde hair. He was a little shorter than Sweden clad in a long black cape. I knew his face, but I didn't know this person. His eyes were different; they were so full of killing intent and murderous aura that the blue sea seemed that it had been dyed red.

I didn't know this person. I didn't.

"Why brother… Denmark…"


	4. Chapter 4

_Then_

Sweden didn't wear glasses when we were little. In fact, he only started wearing them because Finland made him. He got frustrated when Denmark hid them from him; and he became really pissed when Denmark blamed it on me. When I asked the Swedish why he needed glasses, he told me that he couldn't see anything without them.

I told him that he should be proud of his glasses. Nobody else in the family had them. "Not really," Sweden told me, "they're quite a nuisance." That was the end of the conversation.

Sweden and I didn't really talk a lot. In fact, Sweden didn't talk a lot to anybody – except for Finland, maybe – about anything. He was my silent older brother whom I enjoyed reading with before we went to bed. He was the one who hammered together pieces of wood to make a mini ark for me to float in the streams. He was the one who cooked extra desserts for me, the one who attended to my injuries, and the one who taught me how to identify edible fruit. When summer came and the forest ground was crawling with red ants, Sweden would lift me onto his shoulders and walk through them as if it were no problem. I never did see the ant bites, for later on he always wore long pants or kept himself in his room.

On the afternoon of the glasses incident, Norway was out with Finland, and Denmark was in the city. So naturally, I went to look for my remaining brother. I found Sweden sitting in the field behind our house reading – but his spectacles were missing.

"Hey, Suu," I said, approaching my older brother, "what're you doing out here?"

Without taking his eyes off the book, Sweden pointed up at the azure sky and shining sun. I could almost hear his voice in the wind, saying: _the weather's good today_.

"Oh, could I join you?" I continued brightly. He nodded.

Stretching on the lush green meadow beside my brother, I stared up at the clouds in the sky. "Where're your glasses, Suu?" I asked casually. Next to me, I felt Sweden stiffen slightly.

"Took 'em off."

"But why?"

Silence.

"They don't look stupid, you know. I think you look great in glasses!" I turned and looked at my silent brother. Sweden had turned away from his book and was staring intently at me, his head turned to one side as if he were asking _"do you really think so?"_

"Yeah!" I smiled enthusiastically. "Don't mind Den. He probably just wants to get them too. See, I bet they're so great that Finland made you put them on!"

"Finland made me put them on because I wasn't seeing well," Sweden murmured.

"So?" Crawling into Sweden's lap, I snuggled up to my older brother who seemed to freeze. "We're still your brothers, right? We love you no matter what! At least… I love you…" I frowned, wondering where that last line had come out from.

To my surprise, Sweden relaxed and nervously, gently patted my head. When he put his arms around me, I felt warm inside.

"… I love you too, Ice."

_Now_

Finland was out cold at the Sweden's feet as the latter was forcing back Denmark's sword. I inhaled sharply and held my breath.

"Isn't it pitiful that you can't even protect your own comrades?" the Dane leered. I could see that although Denmark was shorter than Sweden, their power was evenly matched. Sweden had to use every inch of muscle in his arm to prevent that blade from slicing him.

"I told you this before, didn't I?" Denmark said. "You're not strong enough, Sweden. GO HOME."

Something about his words hit home. I witnessed a fire burst to life within Sweden's eyes as he gave a sweeping gesture with his arm, knocking Denmark's sword off his hand. Giving his brother a sharp blow in the stomach using the hilt of his sword, Sweden swung his weapon high above his head, striking Denmark in the back. As he stood over the sprawled, trembling figure of the Dane, Sweden's expression indicated that he wasn't angry; neither was he lusting for revenge. My brother's quiet, facial emotion dictated despair.

"It's…not fair," Sweden finally managed, breaking a long silence. It was as if could finally breathe.

"When we were young, we were always under your protection, Den."

Den. This was Denmark's nickname – an endearment that I have never heard Sweden use.

"To be forever in your shadow… it's the same as being called weak." As he said this, the Swedish bit back his tears.

"You were the only one ever getting hurt. It wasn't fair. It's not fair."

I could see that Denmark had just let go of his last spider thread of consciousness as his eyelids slowly slid shut.

"I'm sorry, Den, but it's my turn now."

When I revealed myself, Finland and Denmark had been propped against a large rock. Sweden stared at me intently for ten seconds, and then said in a quiet voice, "how long have you been here?"

I swallowed before guiltily replying, "as long as you have."

My brother sighed and sat down by Finland. The unconscious Finnish had the fabric of his black cloak tightened around the site of injury. It probably wouldn't heal properly with all the scar tissue if there wasn't medicine, I pointed out. Sweden only ignored me and let his gaze linger on Finland. It was then when I sensed the thin, nearly invisible length of string that bonded them together. It felt very much like the bond I held with Norway, only more discreet. With this in mind, I had an abrupt realization that all this while, I had somebody special to rely on, and so did Sweden. All this while, when we confessed our problems and secrets to somebody special who would willingly listen, Denmark had nobody.

Norway must have traced us by footprints, for he showed up in a brown, woolen hooded cloak, carrying a bag of herbs and linen cloth. He and Sweden regarded each other with equal, startlingly similar, silent respect as the Norwegian proceeded to remove the cloak and apply ointment on Finland's wounds.

When that was done, Sweden stood up. His bespectacled eyes never once left the shape of Finland's smaller, curled up body. Norway and I stood up too, the Norwegian looking his older brother in the eye.

"We won't stop you from leaving," my brother said in a crisp voice, "do as you wish." There seemed to be a mask hanging in front of Norway's face. He used to tell me _"you must never betray your emotions"_. I wasn't good at this and failed miserably as of now. Norway shot me a stern look and returned his icy gaze to the Swedish.

A cloud of guilt shadowed Sweden's face for a moment, then his resolve seemed to strengthen. "Thank you," he said softly. I felt like my heart had been ripped in two – one half followed Sweden, the other half remained with the rest of my family. Apologies and thanks never came easy to my older brothers – with the exception of Finland – especially Sweden, being the oldest. His stony front was his best tool.

Sweden seemed torn for a moment, and then he stooped down to my height and placed a large hand on my mop of silvery hair.

"See you, Ice," he said very gently. I reached up and took his hand. "Will you…come back?" I asked gingerly, afraid to meet my brother's piercing gaze.

"Yeah."

"How long will it be?"

I felt Sweden hesitate, calculating his response. While keeping his face carefully blank, he replied, "I don't know." I felt as if his words were as sharp as the blade of his sword, cutting into my heart and leaving a deep scar that would never heal. Norway's words echoed through my mind.

_Never betray your emotions._

This time, I succeeded. 

Denmark and Finland were larger than Norway and me, so we couldn't lug them back. Instead, we curled up next to each other. I never realized that Norway had been holding onto my hand the entire time, even while we were watching Sweden's fading shadow. The snow remembered him from his prints.

"Are you cold?" Norway cupped my hands with his and gently exhaled into them. Blushing, I pulled away from him. "I'm not a child, Norge, you don't have to do this…" I mumbled.

"Says you."

To my left, I felt Denmark stir. Norway leaned forward to get a better view of our brother and raised an eyebrow.

"Welcome back, dougebag. Now that you're awake we can get going. Carry Finland." With that, the Norwegian stood up, ready to take charge.

Denmark looked confused as he sat up.

"…why am I still alive?"

"It hurts, doesn't it," Norway snapped, cutting Denmark's dreamy trance. "Not physically, I suppose. But I suppose it hurts right here." He jabbed a finger at Denmark's chest, the spot above the Dane's heart.

Denmark clutched the fabric as I saw guilt-riddled tears spill down his cheeks. "Yeah, it does."

"It hurts for everybody," Norway stated harshly, "and it's your fault… bloody dougebag."

The Norwegian turned away from Denmark, obviously attempting to hold up his icy mask long past its limit. "Come on. If you continue sitting on the floor I'll step on you. Carry Finland and let's go _home_."

…

I watched a slow, shy smile spread across Denmark's face – one I hadn't seen in almost years.

"I'm sorry Norge."

…

I felt Norway soften, and he stuttered when he spoke. "Y-you should be! Now move, dammit."

As we slowly trudged back home, Norway leading, I fell back into pace with Denmark to keep him company.

"…hey…Ice," Denmark murmured. It had been years that Denmark had used my shortened name. For the longest time, my older brother had barely regarded my existence and addressed me by a formal 'Iceland'.

"…?"

"All those years ago, when I brought you to the lake to make a wish, what did you wish for?"

I wished that I couldn't remember what my younger self had wished for so earnestly. But I did. Now my older brother, who hadn't requested anything from me for so long, had asked me a simple question. Why couldn't I bring myself to answer him honestly? Making sure that Norway was out of ear-shot, I held my breath – as if I would shatter into a million tiny pieces if I exhaled – and whispered my wish to Denmark, feeling my emotional self crack and dissipate with the biting, icy wind.

"I wished that my brothers would always, _always _be by my side."

Denmark couldn't meet my stare, and adverted his guilty gaze to the snow as he adjusted Finland on his back.

"I…guess it won't come true since I told you," I managed a stiff smile as the Dane murmured a barely audible _I'm sorry, Ice_ to himself.

Running ahead to take Norway's hand like a child, I realized that I had lost my ability to cry.


	5. Epilogue

_-Centuries Later-_

"Denmark! Shut up!" Norway hollered, slamming down his book. "Put on the damn headphones if you want to play electronic drums!"

Denmark's head tufted with his wild blonde hair poked out from the corner of the staircase. "Aw c'mon Norge," he whined, "it's no fun when only _I'm_ hearing the drums!"

"Actually, yes, it is."

I walked out of the kitchen with mugs of hot chocolate, marshmallows adorning the top like soft pink clouds. Sinking down onto the sofa next to my irate, older brother, I offered Norway a mug.

"Lunch'll be ready in a few minutes," I reminded Denmark, who gave me a thumbs up and a wide grin. "We're going over to Sweden's after that. Remember to pack up!" Denmark let out something that sounded like a war cry which I took as a form of consent.

"It still feels weird doesn't it?" I stated after a few minutes of silence. "To wake up every day and not smell Finland's cooking? Or see Sweden reading the paper?"

"Mm," Norway murmured in reply, taking the mug and sipping his hot chocolate, "and you've been cooking for us three ever since." At the last statement he gently ruffled my hair – a gesture of affection that he used once in a while.

"What, you don't like my cooking?" I reflexively put my head on the side of Norway's arm. "Could use more salt at times," came the reply.

Sighing, I laced my fingers with my brother's larger ones.

"Sometimes," I said, "it's better to have less salt in our lives."

When Finland had recovered from his wounds all those years ago, he had immediately moved in with Sweden, who had swiftly secured lodging far away from our house.

Now, we spent every New Years' and Christmas at Sweden's house. We'd still see each other frequently during major world meetings. There would be a permanent scar in Denmark and Sweden's relationship, but they tried hard, and the rest of us didn't mind one bit.

* * *

><p>After spending roughly four hours on the train, Norway was very obviously sick of hearing Denmark's rambles of what we'd do when we reached our destination. As the Norwegian described to me<em> "he's like a broken toy that won't shut its damn trap"<em>. Throughout the entire ride on the railway, we hadn't eaten a thing – apart from Denmark, who had nearly twenty glasses of orange juice – because we were saving space for Finland's cooking. We had thought that it was a pretty good idea a couple of hours ago, and I had cooked a light lunch. Halfway through the ride, Denmark had stated that he was famished. This earned him a sharp elbow in the side from Norway. When he proclaimed that he was dying of starvation a few minutes after, the frustrated Norwegian had given his ear a sharp twist which shut him up for the rest of the ride.

I remember that the few years after Sweden and Finland had left, the house felt unusually empty. The three of us – Denmark, Norway and I – had to pull our shattered selves together as quickly as we could; if Finland and Sweden could move on, so could we. I grew up quickly after that.

Norway could shop for groceries and manage our financial needs perfectly, but he couldn't cook at all. Denmark was horrible at doing house chores, but kept things running by fixing what needed to be fixed. He once tried to help in reorganizing our shelves, but he always rearranged things in a manner that I couldn't find them afterwards. Naturally, the remaining responsibilities of cooking and daily household chores fell on my shoulders. They weren't too difficult, since I've helped Finland do them before, but I tired easily.

When Denmark was busy, Norway would help me do dusting and folding of clothes; or maybe shovel the yard if there had been heavy snowfall. Normally, Denmark would do the shoveling, but he abandoned the task a while ago. Wading through a meter of snow wasn't fun when we had to attend meetings, and Norway lost one of his boots.

Similarly, when Norway was out, Denmark would help me in the kitchen. He couldn't really cook either, but he dutifully handed me spices, herbs and ingredients when I needed them – but having my oldest brother in the kitchen with me was a double-edged sword – he ate whatever food I left lying around. Once, when I was attempting to make lasagna, Denmark had eaten half of the noodles before I could lay them down into the pan. Afterwards, I had found myself loss for words when Norway inquired on the portion of noodles I had used for the dish. Of course, when the truth came out, Denmark was punished with a swift punch across the face. Despite the fact that Norway abused Denmark on daily basis, Denmark never seemed to bear a grudge. I could only smile worriedly, for it would be troublesome if Denmark's tooth came out or something. It was almost as if I were the older, more sensible one, trying to keep my younger sibling from killing the other one.

In short, I feel like a second Finland sometimes. Shoot me.

But I didn't really mind – Norway had spent all those years comforting me when nobody else recognized my presence. He refused to cry when that was the one thing he really wanted to do, he gave up his food to me when there wasn't any food left, he shared a bed and blanket with me on the coldest, darkest nights of my life.

This was the least I could do to repay all of that.

* * *

><p>It had already begun to turn dark by the time we reached Sweden's house, but Finland had left the Christmas lights on the roof.<p>

While I ran up and to hug Finland and Sweden, Norway hung back, unwilling to get into the group-hug that Denmark was going to pull us into. Without words being exchanged, Sweden and Denmark had forgiven each other long ago.

I buried my face into Finland's sweater and caught a hint of the scent of chocolate pudding.

"Group hug! I set up the camera!" The Dane, who was as enthusiastic as ever, had placed a tripod with a digital camera on top in the middle of Sweden's lawn. Tugging one of Sweden's hands and flinging an arm over Finland's shoulders, Denmark pulled them close. As Finland put his hands on my shoulders, I smiled sympathetically at Norway as I watched Denmark yell at him to join us by Finland's side. Even though the Norwegian grumbled, a small smile split across his usual stoic face.

_Click_

Immediately after the camera flashed, Sweden pulled away from Denmark's grasp and proceeded to walk into the house. "We're going to freeze out here," he stated in a monotone as he gestured for us to enter.

Finland walked in a small skipping motion as he wafted inside the warm house holding my hand. I clutched onto Norway's arm and pulled him along. Denmark was the last to enter. He slung the tripod – with the camera still attached at the top – over his shoulder and walked towards Sweden who held the door for him. From the living room where we had gathered by the fire, I saw my brothers grin and give each other a fist bump that I hadn't seen since when we were children.

* * *

><p>After dinner, Denmark insisted that we go out and watch the fireworks when the New Year came.<p>

While we sat in the freezing cold by the river behind Sweden's house, Finland brought us a large blanket. The same large blanket we used when we were young.

"The blanket seems to have grown smaller since we last used it…" Denmark frowned as he failed to cover the right half of his body.

"Maybe it's because you've grown fatter," Norway said sarcastically.

"Norway! Don't talk to your brother like that," Finland reprimanded the nation as he slid in between Sweden and me.

"…"

"Aw c'mon Norge, you know you don't mean that…" Denmark reached out and gently rubbed Norway's back. The other nation scowled and twisted Denmark's arm.

"Are you trying to _flirt _with me, dougebag?"

"Language! Norway!"

"Um… I don't think we should argue…" (Me)

"I'm not flirting with you Norge. I know you like Iceland –" (Denmark)

"…what." (Me)

"You're a colossal asshole do you know that?" (Norway)

"…keep me out of this…" (Sweden)

"Your big brother supports thy incestuous spirit, Norge!" (Denmark)

"What the hell is with the Shakespeare? And there's no incestuous spirit, or are you just too obsessed with _Sweden _to admit that you possess it?" (Norway)

"Huh? No way! Sweden only has eyes for Fin." (Denmark)

"Denmark!" (Finland. He's visibly mortified and embarrassed.)

"Sweden, isn't Finland your wife?" (Denmark)

"What incestuous spirit?" (Me)

"You don't need to know, Ice." (Norway)

"Leave me out of this, dammit." (Sweden)

Our argument was disrupted as fireworks abruptly burst into the Prussian blue sky. The flowers of red, orange, green and yellow shone with dazzling light before melting into the background. As I watched a blue firework bloom in the heavens, I couldn't help but think of Norway. Those fireworks felt exactly like us; we all shone our brightest and best, before fading away like the sparks. But when we pulled ourselves back on track, we rocketed up again, sparkling with unmatched brilliance.

Norway gently rested his head against mine.

"You've grown up," he whispered. "I guess you don't need my protection anymore."

"I can protect you now, maybe." I replied softly, nudging my brother with my nose.

"Hey, don't get arrogant just because I told you that you're doing great independently."

"Heh… sorry brother."

...which reminds me...

"Denmark!"

"Huh?" The Dane leant forward to look at me. "Yeah, Ice?"

"I told you my wish, now you're going to tell me yours!"

Denmark looked surprised for a moment, and then the corners of his lips were tugged upwards. Silvery pearls of tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

A bell from the church somewhere beyond the river was struck, the chime resounded through the place signaling a new year. A new year full of hopes, dreams and wishes. I closed my eyes as the ringing sound filled my heart with warmth as Norway's hand gently closed over mine.

Denmark's words echoed through my mind, harmonizing with the singing bells.

"I wished for perfect peace, Ice. And I'm glad it came true. Yours did too, didn't it? In a way. I guess the threads of fate are more tangled than we thought."

I felt a single tear roll down from my right eye as I gently brushed my lips against Norway's warm cheek; to my surprise, the said nation returned the gesture shyly.

"Happy New Year, you guys."

* * *

><p><strong>Seperation of the Kalamar Union - 1523<strong>


End file.
